


Prison Break

by VenomQuill



Series: Stickmin Collection fics [11]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Little Nest Egg Ending | LNE (Henry Stickmin), Minor Toppat characters, Minor Wall characters, the wall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: "He's spent 3 years undercover at The Wall, waiting for the right time to bust out all the captured Toppat members."
Series: Stickmin Collection fics [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983670
Comments: 26
Kudos: 45





	Prison Break

**Author's Note:**

> Find it on dA: https://www.deviantart.com/venomquill/art/Prison-Break-860599127

If Wallace was going to be honest, he’d imagined his later years in the Toppat Clan to be a little more… jewel filled. But three years ago, he’d decided to mix up his schedule a little. He’d been, in the most ironic circumstances, a prison guard in his younger years. He quickly found it tiring and repulsive work. The conditions they’d kept the prisoners in–they were treated no better than animals. This disillusionment in the establishment in which he’d practically been raised with–both parents in some type of law with other family members scattered about the government’s reach–paired with his empathy with some of the “animals” he guarded had been the perfect recipe for the perfect storm. One of the inmates, a man rather high up in the Toppat Clan, told him stories about the Toppats and offered him a place, were he to help bust out the Toppats captured and caged in Wallace’s workplace.

Wallace had accepted. Then, he was no longer “Officer Pemberton” but rather Wallace Pemberton, jailbreaker and on the run. Thankfully, the man whom he’d aided didn’t stab him in the back as all legends from his former peers had insisted would happen. But rather he lived in the Clan and spent some of the best years of his life alongside the man until his passing. The man had meant a lot to him, admittedly. He was a wonderful friend. If it wasn’t for Wallace’s disillusionment with the government or the man’s encouragement, Wallace wouldn’t have become a Toppat and such a brilliant and fun soul would be left to rot behind bars. That was something Wallace wanted to do again, help more people who didn’t deserve to be behind bars regardless of the fact that they were technically criminals.

Now, three years after his friend’s passing, he was here in the Wall. It was surprisingly easy to get himself into the Wall’s trust as a guard. As he slowly climbed their ranks, he quickly found the acrid conditions of the inmates. Small cells, an icy environment that could kill come night, and a view of the ocean far, _far_ below. Anyone who’d gotten sick–even if it was a cold– was tossed into quarantine. No one left quarantine. It was to prevent disease from spreading to the other inmates, higher ups had claimed. It made sense by that viewpoint, but at the same time there _was_ a medical wing and how hard was it to get some cold medicine? Honestly. There were also people who were injured or for some reason unhealthy–such as the result of months of neglect. _They_ were sent to the medical wing. But prison healthcare for inmates was below subpar. Wallace had sprained his ankle and got better treatment than an inmate who’d fallen down a flight of stairs and nearly snapped his own neck. It wasn’t uncommon for the medical wing to “lose” inmate patients.

“What did they do with the bodies?” Wallace had asked, on some level hoping those poor souls would see the sunlight one last time before being guided to rest by their families.

“Trash chute,” he’d been told, the guard’s tone as neutral as the time he explained to Wallace where the cafeteria was located. Wallace had found one of the more popular trash chutes on the leftmost side of the building, where higher security inmates were kept. A cold wind slipped into the chute, ruffling the gray hairs in Wallace’s mustache, nearly quelling the overwhelming need to vomit.

Wallace Pemberton had once assumed the federal prison of which he’d been employed was bad. At least the ones who died there were given a proper funeral and respectful disposal.

The Wall was both his worst nightmare and greatest conquest.

There were a few Toppats scattered about the place, locked up for what would probably be the rest of their days, even if their sentences didn’t match their crimes. Honestly, many of them would be serving “for life” even if their actual sentences were a few years long.

Wallace had been in the Wall for three years undercover when he felt his time was running low.

“We got a new one!” one of his “friends” said, his dark eyes alight in excitement.

Wallace raised an eyebrow. “We got a few last week. What’s so special about this one?”

A grin Wallace knew had to be painful spread across Ace’s features. “He’s the leader of the Toppat Clan.”

Melvin’s eyes went wide, his shiny green irises hidden behind his wide-rimmed glasses. “Reginald Copperbottom? _The_ leader of the Toppat Clan?”

A cold flash matching the permafrost of his workplace burned in Wallace’s veins. “Are you sure about that?”

Ace nodded enthusiastically. “Sure am! Someone in the US brought him in and they decided to dump the rat bastard on us.”

Joe whistled. “I knew we have some big ones, but _that’s_ a catch.”

Melvin looked to Wallace. “What’s wrong, man?”

“Isn’t this a little _too_ dangerous?” Wallace asked. “Don’t you think having the leader of the Toppats here will make us an even bigger target than we already are?”

“Don’t be a wimp,” puffed Joe. “We’re the Wall! What kind of stupid do you think those criminals are?”

Ace smirked. “The loyal kind. Imagine if we get some other big fish, like his second-in-line or something!”

Joe turned on Ace. “Didn’t he die?”

 _No. God dammit, please no. Wallace could barely handle Chief Reginald missing, not both his leaders at once!_ Wallace chipped in, struggling to keep his voice calm, interested even, “I’ve heard actual _legends_ about those people. Who could’ve taken them down?”

Ace shrugged. “Dunno. All I know is Will and Loius told me they saw that puffed up criminal getting _‘escorted’_ to his cell. Ha! Wish I had been there to see the look on his face.”

Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “Now that I think about it, having the leader of the Toppats locked up with his clanmates isn’t such a good idea.”

“What are they gonna do? _Break out?_ How? This is the most secure complex in the world. Only one person’s escaped in the fifty years Warden Petrov has been in charge, and he died in the escape.”

Wallace shook his head. “That _is_ crazy talk.”

Well, Wallace’s three-year-long disguise was going to come off soon. It had to. He checked up on his chief whenever he could without gaining too much heat. Being part of the patrols in the more secure parts of the prison was helpful. The man sat alone and silent in Maximum Security, a fancy way of saying “solitary confinement.” He had very quickly gotten sick from the cold. Wallace had done as much as he could to help–making sure his meals were warm, he had a useable blanket, and they were actually delivering food and water on a regular basis–but he knew it wasn’t a long-term solution. He caught the man sketching on the ground and walls often. Floor plans of various buildings, none of them the Wall. After all, Reginald didn’t _have_ Wall floorplans. He muttered to himself. Plans. Those were plans for heists.

Then came a time Wallace had been praying would never come to light.

He found Reginald’s breakfast cold on a tray on the floor, right where the last guard had put it. His chief was still in bed, quiet and still, almost like he was asleep. Wallace knew he couldn’t be asleep, that just wasn’t him. He was awake in the mornings. The loud banging on his cell door from the guard who delivered breakfast was kind enough to do that. Curious, anxious, Wallace opened the door. He stepped over the chilled breakfast and to Reginald. He was indeed asleep. When he tried to shake the man awake–why yell when the banging didn’t wake him–a quiet groan escaped Chief Reginald’s lips, hardly disturbing his curled and frayed mustache streaked with thin silver lines, matching his intensely curled hair.

Wallace left the cell and immediately went to fetch the prison medical professionals. The nurse or whatever he was that came to inspect him had hardly put a hand on the prisoner before he called to his partner and the man was taken away. Thin and bedraggled, still and quiet, the man passed by Wallace. _Oh God, he was dead. He was dying. God, what was he going to do? He had to break him out, he had to, but not while the man couldn’t_ walk _. He needed help. Where was the rest of the Clan? They had to come for him, they_ had _to. Unless they were relying on Wallace completely, in which case he needed to do something. Immediately._

On his break not fifteen minutes later, Wallace got his lunch. An “unknown” number was in his history. He fidgeted and only managed to play with his meal for a few minutes before taking out his phone and texting the number. “ _RC, SOS_ ” Now _that_ should get someone’s attention. Well, whether it got someone’s attention or not wasn’t really the point, now was it? Someone received it, someone read it, now someone had to do something about it.

Near to evening, as Wallace was patrolling Maximum Security, his phone beeped. “ _TC O, H?_ ” Ah, yes, the Toppat Clan was outside, _finally._ Yeah, Wallace could use some help.

“ _Meet O_ ” Unfortunately, he was still a little rough on some of the characters, but he did know “O” meant “outside” so that was good. He knew the one on the other line knew that, too.

Wallace casually walked himself out of the Maximum Security cells and down through the halls and to a fire escape on the right side. On the far left, just off the cafeteria, Wallace knew Sten liked to sit outside and watch the snow fall into the ocean. Wallace peeked his head out and walked into the chilly early evening air. Snow fluttered around him. His breath fogged before his nose. Way high up, past the partial cloud cover, he knew the Toppat Clan’s station stayed in a steady orbit. Now they were here, ready. A bright green beam glowed, shining through the clouds and over the landing like a ray of sunlight. A cluster of people was there, the head being none other than Right Hand Man. He was mostly made of metal, now, but that was undeniably his boss. Ahnoldt, Sherman, and Wilhelm were there, as well as a blonde woman with diamond earrings and an hourglass top hat he didn’t recognize.

“Chief’s in the medical ward, and there are Toppats in cells 30D, 18A, 29F, and 13E. Cell rows ‘F’ and ‘E’ are in one hallway, but ‘D’ and ‘A’ are in two separate hallways. Medical Ward is in the far left, near the holding cells and trash chute,” Wallace explained. He brought out a couple of folded maps he’d managed to snatch and copy earlier that day. He took out one and pointed to the spots he’d emphasized. All the cells he pointed out were on the same floor, but the medical ward was two floors above them.

“There’s at least one guard stationed on each landing by the cells,” Wallace explained. “At the end of the ‘D’ row, there’s a storage unit with two men on guard. Isaac and Heath are stationed there today. Isaac has a staff that can disintegrate a person halfway across the hall, but Heath is unarmed. Horace, like the other guards standing by the cells, should be armed.”

Right Hand Man nodded and stated, “Ahnoldt, Sherman, Wilhelm: take the cells, in order. Wallace: lead us to the medical ward.” He pressed a finger to the side of his head. “Don’t hesitate once we give you the signal to bring us back up.”

Wallace heard a quiet, monotone _“Uh, sure,”_ from the other end of an earpiece he couldn’t see. Or maybe that was coming from Right Hand Man’s robotic half of his head. That was probably it.

Wallace was quick to lead them through the quieter places, stopping only once they got to a staircase that would lead them up to the cells. Wallace went down with Right Hand Man and Earrings.

The medical ward was quiet, save for a few medical professionals and injured patients. It didn’t take long to get past them–the medical professionals putting up no fight whatsoever as they were locked into the nearest cabinet or closet–and find Chief Reginald near the end. It was a little chilly in the room, as it was everywhere in the damned complex, and though the man had a blanket, Wallace knew the chill wasn’t completely stopped by the laughably thin object.

Right Hand Man made it to his side quicker than Wallace thought possible. With more care than Wallace had ever seen a person use, Right Hand Man lifted Reginald up into his arms, blanket wrapped once around him, at least for the time being.

Then, they were escaping.

Then, they were found.

Wallace bristled and took out his gun as he found himself facing down a cluster of guards ready to go home. Before a shot could be fired, the woman with them hissed, “Shut your eyes!” Wallace obeyed, and not a moment too soon before a blinding flash caused the guards to scream behind them. A curious ability for the woman to have, but Wallace wasn’t complaining.

Right Hand Man was running, and so were they. They just barely got up the stairs when they met Sherman’s group, running as fast as their feet could take them. Years-imprisoned Toppats followed, with Wilhelm and Ahnoldt taking the rear guard. They paused at the doorway to fire off a few shots before slamming shut the door and following them out into the hallways to the fire escape. Right Hand Man shifted one arm and tipped his head to press his finger against the side of his head. “Ready the teleporter!”

They burst out into the open, skidding to a stop on the landing they could barely fit into as a whole. Wallace helped Ahnoldt and Wilhelm keep the door firmly shut behind them as Wall guards that had been hot on their heels now pounded the obstruction.

A green light filled his vision and suddenly he was weightless. His feet lost the ground and then the floor beneath him zipped away, shrinking rapidly as he and the rest of the team were beamed up. The door slammed open, but the Wall guards ended up running into an empty space.

Warmth, sweet warmth he’d almost forgotten could exist, blasted into him.

Wallace landed in a cramped room with the rest of them. The door swiftly opened, and they were inside the station, the ability to breathe safely granted.

The former undercover agent looked to their boss. Right Hand Man gave a few orders and left, presumably to their own medical station with actual competent people that would revive their dying leader. He felt someone pat his shoulder and looked up to see one of the former prisoners, a man in a black top hat and sunglasses. Cool Joe grinned at him. “Good job. Congratulations, gents! We’re free!” Wallace matched the look of glee upon hearing the cheers from his formerly imprisoned clanmates.

_Hope I did you proud, wherever you are._

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching a "Henry Stickmin video but x" video, this one about Henry getting killed in unlucky ways (Slingshot, more specifically) and I saw Wallace just standing there shocked instead of firing on the Toppats. I was thinking "You know, he's interesting." Also, Reginald getting arrested and put into the _Wall_ of all places was interesting. So, here ya go.
> 
> Decided he'd make a good former policeman/prison guard because of his current undercover work. I really want to do something with Isaac and Heath but can't think of anything. _"Agk! I'm having a heart attack! And the only cure is to write an outlandish challenge! Help! Someone give me a prompt! I'm bored!"_


End file.
